


table for eight

by alaudarum



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, cope with wanting kbbq by writing your faves getting kbbq
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23406013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alaudarum/pseuds/alaudarum
Summary: “So,” Ingrid asks for the fifth time in the past twenty minutes.  “Whereexactly are you taking me?”Because Ingrid is blindfolded, she cannot see the way that Felix’s fingers grip the steering wheel a little tighter before responding with, “Why do you think you’ll get a different answer if you keepaskingus this question?”--It's Ingrid's birthday, and she's never been to kbbq before.  The Blue Lions decide they need to remedy this serious oversight.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 27





	table for eight

**Author's Note:**

> yes I AM coping with not being able to go out for kbbq by writing about kbbq thanks for asking
> 
> Beta'd by [softcombat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/softcombat/pseuds/softcombat) who pointed out the initial draft had Ingrid not completely taking the sleeping mask off so she was wearing it like a bib for the entirety of the dinner...
> 
> Title is a reference to Table for Six from gbf.......

To strangers, the sight of Ingrid sitting in the back seat of Felix’s tiny sedan, blindfolded by a sleeping mask, with Sylvain in the passenger seat and Dimitri beside her, might look a little like a hostage situation. Except, it’s the fourth of January, and Ingrid is no hostage.

“So,” Ingrid asks for the fifth time in the past twenty minutes. “ _Where_ exactly are you taking me?”

Because Ingrid is blindfolded, she cannot see the way that Felix’s fingers grip the steering wheel a little tighter before responding with, “Why do you think you’ll get a different answer if you keep _asking_ us this question?”

Sylvain rescues the conversation though, hastily cutting through the tension to soothe some of Felix’s rising irritation. After all, the last thing Sylvain wants during their little trip is to be at the mercy of a very pissed-off driver. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there,” he reassures Ingrid in a slight sing-song voice. “Look, the GPS even says we’ve only got five minutes to go -- oh, well, I guess you can’t see that, but just trust me on it, yeah?”

Dimitri raises his hand. “I will vouch for the GPS’ estimated time of arrival,” he reports in a completely serious tone.

“Hm… All right, but was this blindfold _really_ necessary?” Ingrid asks, folding her hands in her lap to resist the temptation of finangling the sleeping mask off her eyes. It would be _so_ easy to just reach up and slip a finger underneath the fabric to take a little peek. “I just don’t think it’d make a difference if I don’t know where we’re going. But if Dimitri says there’s only five minutes left, then I guess that must be true.” She smiles in the darkness because there’s no need for Ingrid to see that Sylvain’s in the passenger seat, gasping in offense at her open admissions to distrusting his word.

She doesn’t need to see it, not when she can imagine it in vivid detail.

“Ingrid, I’m wounded!” Sylvain exclaims while pushing out his lower lip in his most puppy-faced pout, ignoring the fact that the only person who could see his expression is Felix, who isn’t even paying attention, given his laser-focused eyes on the road ahead. Dimitri makes a valiant effort to catch a glimpse of Sylvain’s full expression in the rearview mirror, but when it proves in vain, he reaches around from his seat behind Sylvain to pat his friend on the shoulder.

The ride continues in silence until Ingrid hears a pinging sound coming from Dimitri’s general direction. There’s rustling as Dimitri fumbles for his phone before he announces, “Ah, it’s Dedue. They’ve just arrived at -- “

“Ah-ah! Nope! No hints!” Sylvain quickly declares, immediately shushing Dimitri from revealing any hints on where their car is headed.

“Oh, yes, yes of course.” Dimitri clears his throat before restarting the report. “Dedue says they will wait for us right outside.”

Sylvain throws Dimitri a thumbs-up over his shoulder. “Perfect, let Dedue know he’s the best and that we’ll be -- oh, actually, there it is. Excellent timing, Felix.”

Felix does not respond, simply pulls the car into the lot next to a conveniently-open spot, right next to Dedue’s car. Dimitri notices, chiming in with, “How thoughtful of Dedue to save a spot for us as well.”

The car’s engine ceases its rumbling as Felix kills the engine, stashing its keys safely in his pocket. There’s the sound of unlocking car doors, but before Ingrid can move to open it, Felix’s voice cuts in with, “Wait, stay there. If you trip and fall while getting out of _my_ car, _I’m_ the one who’s going to end up responsible for it.”

Sylvain grins as he slides out of the passenger’s side of the car. “God, Felix, just say you want to be a good gentleman and help the lady out, maybe even hold her hand because no one wants to -- ow! Okay, okay! I’m sorry!”

The door at Ingrid’s side swings open; the cool, January air bites at her cheeks despite half her face being buried in her scarf. There’s a hand on her arm: Felix.

“Watch your head. Your father’s going to give me hell if you accidentally concuss yourself,” he scoffs, but Ingrid knows Felix well enough to realize that’s a poorly-fashioned attempt at being light-hearted.

It’s January fourth, which means even Felix is behaving himself.

A high-pitched, excited yell pierces Ingrid’s ears, followed by someone else’s light chuckling. “Ingrid, you’re here!” comes Annette’s voice, and though Ingrid cannot see her, she can certainly imagine her ever-energetic friend bouncing in excitement as Mercedes smiles fondly. “Oh! Ashe and Dedue are here too, in case you were curious, and so’s Mercie!”

There’s a light pat on Ingrid’s arm, followed by an, “I’m glad we were able to find a day that worked for everyone!”

A smile tugs at the corners of Ingrid’s mouth: “It’s good to see -- um, good to hear from you too, Ashe. And Dedue? Is he…?”

“I am present,” comes a voice beside Ashe’s general direction. Ingrid offers him a nod, hoping desperately that she’s looking in the proper direction.

“Dedue, I’m glad you could make it. But where did Dimitri and Sylvain disappear off to?”

“They went on ahead,” Felix replies, ever vague and _very_ into not spoiling this surprise event for Ingrid. “I’m going to lead you there too.”

Ingrid raises a brow. “We have to walk to get there? I have to walk there? Without seeing? Where are we now and -- and, is that -- is that beef…?

“This is the parking lot,” Dedue replies. “And yes. That is beef.”

As ever, Ingrid appreciates Dedue’s straightforward responses to her questions. But before she can ask another question, Felix is tugging lightly on her arm. “Come on, we didn’t bring you here to hang out in a parking lot.”

There’s a shuffling of feet as the entire party moves on ahead of Ingrid and Felix, and though it takes the two of them a little longer to make it to their destination due to Ingrid’s blindfold, the light tinkling of a doorbell and the sudden aroma of grilled meat assaulting her sense of smell alerts Ingrid that they must have reached their destination.

“God, that smells _heavenly_ ,” she breathes. “Can I take my blindfold off now? Is it time yet?”

“Incorrigible _and_ impatient,” Felix muses, but Ingrid knows this was all Felix’s idea, so he must be feeling quite pleased with seeing her enthusiasm. “Yeah, go ahead. You can take it off now. Why not.”

Eager to find the source of the smell of beef, Ingrid quickly reaches up to pull the sleeping mask off her eyes and over her head, stowing it away into her coat pocket. She blinks, her eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden light, and after she’s rubbed them with the backs of her wrists, everything finally comes into focus. There are people sitting at tables with air vents above them, each table equipped with a metal grill. A server hustles by, clutching a vessel of smoking charcoal with metal tongs, as a nearby table of four customers clink their soju glasses.

“Well?” Felix asks, startling Ingrid out of her brief reverie from absorbing her surroundings. “Why are you still standing here? Everyone’s over there at that table for eight waiting for you.” He nods off to the right, where Dimitri and Sylvain are seated with Ashe, Dedue, Mercedes, and Annette, all six of them waving in Ingrid’s and Felix’s direction.

Ingrid glances at Felix with a stunned expression. “This -- you brought me to Korean barbeque? How did you…?”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Because if you _knew_ what it was like and that it existed, you’d be frequenting them every single goddamn day.” And because he’s not wrong, all Ingrid can do is turn a bright shade of red before making her way towards the table seating the rest of their friends.

The two of them weave their way over to the table, but not before Felix offers the hostess of the restaurant a small nod while quickly relaying something that Ingrid’s not able to understand.

Ingrid settles down into a seat across from Dimitri and beside Felix. From her other side, Mercedes beams and hands Ingrid a menu. “It’s not every day that we all manage to get together like this. It’s nice, isn’t it, Ingrid?” she asks lightly. “Oh, and don’t worry. Tonight’s on all of us, so order whatever you’d like!”

Ingrid decides she would like nothing more than to do just that, but as she cracks open the menu, she quickly realizes each menu item’s description isn’t particularly helpful. What on earth is “kalbi” and “bulgogi” anyways? Relying wholly on whatever photos were available throughout the menu, Ingrid mulls over her options before turning to Felix. “Our tastes are the same when it comes to things like this,” she begins, which gets an arched brow out of Felix. “Surely whatever you decide to order, I’ll like it as well?”

“What? No, that’s not -- okay, you know what. Everyone hand the menus over. Except for Ashe, who I know for a fact knows what he’s doing.”

Ashe gives Felix a thumbs-up from Dedue’s side. “Yep, you can count on me to handle our side of the table’s orders!” With that settled, Annette, Dedue, and Mercedes quietly hand their menus off to Ashe.

Sylvain and Dimitri hand their menus to Felix while wearing matching guilty expressions.

Conveniently, a server swoops in with eight glasses of water balanced on her tray. “Anything else to drink?” she asks once the final glass is set on the table.

Felix glances around the table. Dimitri, Sylvain, and Mercedes raise their hands. “소주 셋,” he replies.

The server blinks, as though recalibrating all her earlier assumptions about the group sitting before her. “한국분인가요?” she asks, and out of the corner of her eye, Ingrid notices Felix’s conflicted expression.

“네, 하지만 -- 영어말이 쫌 더 편안헤요. 이해 쫌 할수있지만, 말이 쫌...”

The server smiles. “잘한대요!” she remarks, which, to Ingrid’s fascination, makes _Felix_ turn red. Then, the server turns back to the rest of the table and asks, “Three soju?”

Dimitri, Sylvain, and Mercedes all raise their hands again. “Three soju,” the server repeats, nods, and hustles off to retrieve the bottles.

Once she’s disappeared, Annette casts Felix a curious expression. “What did you say to her? Actually, what did she say to you? You turned all red, Felix! You _have_ to tell us!”

“It’s nothing,” Felix retorts. “I just told her we wanted three soju. Also she said my Korean was good, which is probably a lie.” And then ever quick to deflect himself as the topic of the conversation, Felix asks, “Ashe, are you all set? Let’s order when she’s back with drinks.”

“We’re all set here!” Ashe chimes in. “I picked some good things out for us, and of course, Ingrid, if you’d like to try some too, just let us know and we can pass some over!”

Ingrid nods, and as soon as their server’s returned with the three drinks, Ashe and Felix immediately set to pointing out which cuts of meat they wanted to order for their respective sides of the tables. The server nods through it all, recites the order back to the two of them, then hurries off to retrieve the meats.

Sylvain leans forward, elbow propped on the table with his chin resting in his palm. “So,” he begins with a mischievous expression, “any famous words from the birthday girl? Got a speech prepared for all of us?”

Ingrid blinks. “I -- well,” she begins, inhaling to gather her thoughts. “Thank you everyone for taking the time out of your schedules to be here. I mean it. It’s really good to see all of you together, especially given how busy I know everyone’s been… And whoever’s idea it was to arrange dinner here, I _must_ know --”

“It was Dedue’s, actually,” Dimitri notes, then glances in Dedue’s direction for elaboration.

Dedue, being Dedue, does not offer too many words, but what he says is plenty for an explanation. “I maintain a calendar of everyone’s birthdays,” he explains. “Shortly after Dimitri’s birthday, I began asking whether everyone was free to celebrate yours as well.” And to give credit where it’s due, he adds, “The restaurant, however, was Felix’s idea.”

Again, Felix tries to deflect with, “I figured there was no possible way you wouldn’t like this sort of thing.”

Ingrid, however, is not about to allow either of them to slip away without some recognition. “In that case, Dedue, Felix, thank you. And everyone else, again, I’m glad you could all make it. I… had no idea this was happening behind the scenes…”

“That’s the _point_ of a surprise though!” Annette chimes in. “You’re not supposed to know, Ingrid. That would defeat the whole purpose of a surprise!”

Fortunately, the server swoops back in to rescue Ingrid from having to make even more awkward speeches. She sets out a metal bowl of rice in front of each of them, along with side dishes of cabbage kimchi, a potato salad, fish cakes, and marinated beans, before disappearing. And then, she’s back with a second server too; both are clutching the same kinds of piping-hot charcoal that Ingrid had seen earlier. They lift the metal grates, slotting the vessel of charcoal in, fit the grates back on, then disappear back into the kitchen.

Ingrid peers curiously at the grill in front of her. “So it’s true that we’re supposed to grill our own meat then?” she asks.

Ashe nods from his end of the table. “That’s right,” he replies. “But don’t worry, maybe Sylvain might know how to grill?”

Felix shakes his head. “No, he’ll just burn our meat,” he replies.

Sylvain holds his hands up in a defeated gesture. “Okay, _harsh_ , but not… entirely untrue. Anyways, the last time we got impromptu Korean barbeque, you wouldn’t _let_ me grill for us.”

“That’s because you’re shit at it and I like things grilled a certain way. Also, you’ll just use it as an excuse to have Annette and Mercedes hand-feed you. I know you.”

Just as the servers rescued Ingrid earlier, their server swoops back in again to save Sylvain from more of Felix’s choice words, this time clutching two trays of raw meat. She sets one down on each table, along with a pair of tongs and kitchen scissors. “Call me if you would like more,” she notes, addressing everyone, and then flits off to tend to a different table.

Both Ashe and Felix rise from their seats. Using their given tongs, they begin to lay the strips of meat across the metal grills. Ingrid observes in both fascination and anticipation. While she could already tell that the smell of smoke and meat were going to permeate her clothes, if the food _tasted_ anything like the way it smelled, it would certainly be on par for food of the heavens.

In time, the meat browns. Both designated meat-grillers grab their respective kitchen scissors, snipping the meats into smaller, bite-size pieces. “Everyone, feel free to eat whenever things look cooked enough for you,” Ashe pipes up, encouraging everyone to start eating. “Oh, and you should try some with the grilled garlic! That’s one of my favorites.”

There’s a piece of juicy-looking meat that Ingrid’s been eyeing ever since Felix started grilling. Once it looks medium rare, she reaches out with her pair of chopsticks, grabs the piece, and sets it on top of her rice. Mercedes does the same, but grabs a piece of lettuce from a woven basket sitting on the table, using it to wrap a bit of rice, meat, grilled garlic, and what appeared to be a kind of soy paste, then popped the entire thing into her mouth. Ingrid copies everything she’d seen Mercedes execute, but it falls apart in the end and she has to shove the lettuce wrap into her mouth with significantly less grace. But that’s all right, because Ingrid’s earlier inclination as to what everything might taste like is _completely_ correct.

Felix was right; if she could have this every single day for dinner, she would.

Noticing her content expression, Dimitri smiles from across the table. “How is it?” he asks her, as though the answer isn’t written all across Ingrid’s face.

Ingrid chews more thoroughly, swallows, and takes a gulp of water before responding. “Amazing,” she breathes. “The marinade makes it a little sweet, but it’s also got a hint of saltiness, I think from the paste? But it’s balanced out by the lettuce and rice, and then there’s the nuttiness from the garlic…”

The sound of a chair dragging against the floorboards catches Ingrid’s attention. It’s Dedue, standing up with a wrap in his hands, offering it to Ashe. “I was going to have some after everyone’s done but -- no, never mind. Thank you, Dedue,” Ashe says, accepting the offering for what it’s worth. He opens his own mouth to allow Dedue to hand-feed him, pausing momentarily in his grilling to enjoy the flavor. “Wow, I -- I don’t know what they must use for the marinade here, but it’s -- it’s really on a level of its own!”

There’s a smug grin on Felix’s face, and that’s how Ingrid is truly able to tell he’s the one responsible for picking out the restaurant, even after Dedue’s explanations earlier. But before Ingrid can compliment Felix on his selection, Annette’s hopped out of her seat and shuffles over to Felix with her own lettuce, rice, and meat wrap. “Come on Felix!” she insists in a sing-song voice. “Open wide -- hey! Don’t purse your lips like that! Come on, try some! We can’t just let you grill the whole time without eating!”

Felix opens his mouth, perhaps to demand Annette sit back down, but none of them will ever know because Annette uses it as an opportunity to shove the entire wrap into his mouth. It leaves him with no choice but to open wide, the irritated expression on his face slowly fading away once he’s chewed and swallowed his food.

“See? It’s good, right?” Annette asks with a triumphant expression.

“Yeah, okay, it’s pretty good. Will you sit down now?”

Satisfied, Annette settles back into her seat as Mercedes lets out a light chuckle. “Annette, I think you’re the only one who can get away with doing something like that,” she says, but before Felix can deny any of it, there’s _another_ lettuce wrap being offered and held stubbornly in front of his mouth.

“Ingrid, sit _down_ ,” Felix grumbles. “What are you -- it’s _your_ birthday. You’re the one who’s supposed to be eating so much to the point that you pop.”

“One: that’s rude. Two: I wanted to compliment you on your choice of restaurant. You were right. If I could, I really would get this every single day. And now that you’ve acknowledged it’s my birthday, you’re _obligated_ to listen to me, so open up and eat this.”

Trapped by his own words from earlier, Felix sighs but opens up, chewing and swallowing the wrap. Ingrid grins triumphantly, and only when Felix gulps the food down does she finally take her seat again. She selects another piece of meat off the grill, trying it with just rice this time. It’s thinner than the chunks that she’d been devouring earlier, and whatever it is, it’s less sweet than what she’d had earlier.

Noticing Ingrid’s quizzical expression, Mercedes leans over to shed some light. “I think that one’s bulgogi,” she helpfully comments. “I like that kind, but everything that Ashe and Felix have picked out has been so good that I think I just like it all… And to think that we’ve only ordered three different kinds of meat this time...”

At the mention of the third kind of meat, Felix begins laying out what appear to be thick pieces of bacon. “Pork belly,” Dimitri explains to Ingrid, who is too preoccupied with hungrily observing the meat go from red to a light brown.

It’s then that a thought strikes Ingrid. If they’d only ordered three types of meat off the menu, then they would simply need to return to try the rest of the menu.

She glances up at Felix who is still diligently grilling.

“Felix,” she begins. “Your birthday is next, isn’t it?”

“What of it?”

“I think we should come here for your birthday too.”

That gets a laugh out of Sylvain and Annette, and even Dedue cannot help but smile.

“I’m not planning my own birthday party,” Felix grumbles as Sylvain slips away to use the bathroom.

Except, instead of actually going to the bathroom, he heads to the entrance of the restaurant while everyone is distracted, and makes a reservation for another table of eight on the twentieth of February.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't really know how to incorporate my lines of Korean, so I ended up just leaving them in Hangul and figured I'd put a translation note down here. Convo is loosely based on my own experiences of going to places and vibing with people who are happy to have met another Korean.
> 
> "Three soju."  
> "You're Korean?"  
> "Yes, though English is easier for me. I can understand some, but speaking it is..."  
> "But you're quite good!"
> 
> In any event I'm [@dualcaster](https://twitter.com/dualcaster) on twitter!


End file.
